Chapter 24
BIANCA
The war room at the compound has never felt more appropriate to its name than it does right now.
Maps of New York cover every surface—the dining table, side tables, even pinned to the walls with red threads connecting various locations like a spider’s web of violence.
Surveillance photos are scattered across the mahogany surface, faces of Calabrese soldiers and associates staring up at us with the unseeing eyes of the soon-to-be-dead.
Financial documents detail money flows, property holdings, and business fronts that will all need to be destroyed.
I stand at the head of the table, Alessandro to my right, Matteo to my left, with the rest of our people arranged around the room like pieces on a chess board.
The weight of command settles across my shoulders and instead of being anxious, I feel assured.
Begin with their weakest point, Giuseppe’s voice rumbles in my head, sharp and focused. Strike where they can’t defend.
No, begin with their strongest, Sophia counters. Break their confidence first, then they’ll crumble everywhere else.
Begin with intelligence, Matteo’s voice adds calmly. Know what we’re dealing with before we commit to any approach.
For the first time since the voices started, I don’t feel torn between their competing demands.
Instead, I consider each perspective with the detached professionalism Alessandro taught me, weighing their merits before integrating them into something uniquely mine.
“Gentlemen,” I begin, my voice authoritative. “We’re not just going to destroy the Calabrese family. We’re going to make their destruction serve multiple objectives simultaneously.”
I move around the table, pointing to specific locations on the map as I speak. “First, we take out everyone who matters in their organization. Every lieutenant, every soldier who could pull things together after we hit them. We basically cut off their head and break their arms all in one night.”
Giuseppe’s approach.
Nods around the table. This is language they all understand.
“Second, we make their friends turn on them,” I continue, stopping to point at names of Calabrese allies. “We feed the right information to the right people, make it look like the Calabreses are screwing over their partners. Once we’re done, nobody’s going to want anything to do with them.”
Sophia’s approach.
I can see the wheels turning in several minds, recognizing how good that part of the plan is.
“Third, while they’re falling apart, we move in and take everything good they had.
Their territory, their businesses, their connections.
” I look around the room, making sure they understand I mean business.
“All of it becomes ours. We don’t just destroy them, we get stronger from their destruction. ”
“And the timeline?” asks Antonio, his eyes shrewd as he watches me.
“Forty-eight hours,” I state flatly. “I want them destroyed in two days.”
The silence that follows is loud. Even in our world, what I’m proposing is unprecedented in its scope and ambition.
“That’s…” Mario starts then stops, tapping his finger against his teeth. It took a lot to get me to agree for Mario to show up, but he has the goddamn Irish in his back pocket thanks to Elena and I can’t turn down allies.
Mario leans back, looking at me with dark eyes. “That’s goddamn beautiful. What a message you’re sending to the Calabreses, Bianca. Anything less sends the message that you can attack the DeLucas and live to tell about it.”
“And that’s not acceptable,” I retort, watching Mario nod approvingly.
Exactly right, Giuseppe’s voice purrs with approval. Show them what happens to our enemies.
But make sure they understand why it’s happening, Sophia adds. The lesson must be clear.
And ensure we can maintain what we take, Matteo’s voice cautions. Conquest without consolidation is meaningless.
“The first wave hits their leadership,” I continue, pointing to photos of specific individuals. “We hit eleven locations at the same time, between midnight and three AM. Nobody walks away, nobody gets to make phone calls to warn anyone else.”
Alessandro steps forward, his shoulder brushing against mine as he takes over. “Coordinated teams, synchronized timing, clean extractions. We’ve identified the key personnel and their routines.”
“The second wave starts right after,” I continue, feeling comfort from Alessandro’s presence.
“While they’re all running around freaking out because their bosses are dead, we drop a bunch of information to the FBI about their money laundering stuff.
But we make it look like it came from one of the other families trying to screw them over. ”
Matteo’s eyebrows rise slightly—not with surprise, but with what might be admiration. “You’re going to make it look like someone else is moving against them while we hit them from a different angle.”
“Exactly.” I nod at him, relieved he gets what I’m trying to do. “And when the feds start raiding their places, we plant evidence that makes it look like the Calabreses were working with families we want to get rid of too. Kill a bunch of birds with one really big stone.”
The room has grown completely still. Even the veteran soldiers who’ve seen decades of family wars are staring at me with something approaching awe.
“The psychological part needs to be more personal.” I smile grimly.
“We’re not just going to kill them—we’re going to make sure they know exactly why it’s happening.
Each person gets a message before they die, explaining that this is because Dominic thought he could set me up and get away with it.
No confusion, no wondering what went wrong.
They die understanding that their boss’s stupidity is what got them all killed. ”
Perfect. Fear and understanding together, Sophia’s voice whispers with satisfaction.
“What about the Irish?” asks one of the captains, glancing at Mario. “Aren’t they going to help?”
“I’m so glad you mentioned them.” I move to another section of the map, pointing to territories along the waterfront. “The Irish have their own grievances with Calabrese operations. Siobhan O’Connor in particular has been looking for an excuse to expand into their smuggling routes.”
Like we conjured her up just by saying her name, the door opens and in walks Siobhan herself. She’s tall with this gorgeous sheet of red hair and bright green eyes that look like they see everything. Three of her guys follow behind her, and they all move like predators.
They’re the kind of people you definitely don’t want to fuck with.
“Miss DeLuca,” she says with a light Irish accent, taking in the war room setup with interest. “I hear from Mario you’re planning something ambitious.”
“I’m planning something that has to be done,” I correct, sticking out my hand to shake hers. “The question is if you want in on it.”
Her grip is firm, callused from years of handling weapons. When she smiles, it’s the expression of someone who enjoys dangerous games.
“I would love to be in,” she nearly purrs. “But it depends on what you’re offering.” She makes a show of settling into a seat and crosses her legs. “The Calabreses have been undercutting our shipping rates for years. If you’re planning to remove them from the equation, we might find common ground.”
She understands power, Giuseppe’s voice notes approvingly.
She’s testing you, Sophia warns. Don’t show weakness.
She’s a potential asset, Matteo observes. But handle her carefully.
“I’m offering you three of their best smuggling routes, two warehouses in prime locations, and the elimination of your primary competition on the waterfront,” I state directly.
“In exchange for support during the initial strikes and a guarantee that you’ll fill the void they leave behind instead of letting some other family muscle in. ”
Siobhan’s eyebrows rise. “These are generous terms. It certainly sounds like you’re planning on eliminating them,” she says, her eyes never leaving my face.
“I’m planning to make sure that when someone tries to fucking murder me during an official trial, the consequences are so severe that no one else will ever be tempted to repeat the mistake,” I clarify.
A slow smile spreads across her face before she glances at Mario. “You didn’t tell me she was such a spitfire,” she tells him.
Mario shrugs. “Didn’t think you needed to know.”
Siobhan rolls her eyes before she returns her attentions to me. It takes everything in me not to squirm under her laser-like focus. “I like you, girl,” she says, her accent thickening slightly with amusement.
Cool. Liking me doesn’t mean shit if she’s not going to ally with me. “Does that mean you’re in?” I ask impatiently.
“It means I want details,” she replies. “Specifics about timing, targets, and extraction protocols. If we’re going to war, I want to know we’re going to win. I already went through a war, girl, and lost a lot of good men. I’m not looking to do that again.”
Fine. I’ll show her why my strategy is foolproof.
For the next two hours, we dissect every aspect of the plan.
The voices in my head have become consultants rather than competing authorities, each offering their expertise when relevant instead of fighting for dominance.
When Siobhan asks about contingencies for federal interference, Giuseppe’s voice immediately provides insights about avoiding law enforcement attention.
When one of our soldiers questions the misinformation campaign, Sophia’s voice supplies detailed psychological profiles of our targets.
When Matteo raises concerns about long-term political ramifications, his mental voice guides me through the complex web of family relationships that could be affected.